


A Stallion for Stud

by warpropti (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse of Authority, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Forced to impregnate, Raping a Virgin, unwanted arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-11-29 16:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/warpropti
Summary: Lady Rohesia requires a child, and she seeks to get one the easiest way possible.





	A Stallion for Stud

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Rohesia was not the woman she used to be, and she was reminded of that every time she met her husband’s cold eyes across their table. Hugh was a man of few words and he’d said little to her throughout their eight years of marriage; what he lacked in speech, however, he made up for with a steely gaze that revealed everything. She had never needed to guess at Hugh’s mood, and so between her mind and her efforts, their marriage survived his drinking, his ill temper, his whoring and his warring.

No amount of effort, however, could solve this.

“A wife’s duty is to provide her husband with sons,” Hugh said, and in doing so, he said so much more than that. His eyes were angry, his fist clenched around the knife he’d used to spear his beef flank, and although his lip moved little thanks to the huge scar that disfigured his face, she suspected he was moments away from baring his teeth. Such displays were typical for him; Hugh was neither a smart nor kind man, and he had come by his fortune and lands through sheer viciousness. Although inelegant, Helena had appreciated that trait once upon a time, just as she had appreciated the opportunity to become his wife when his second wife mysteriously passed.

Now, she was regretting both, and her own hand twitched imperceptibly with the urge to launch herself across the table and sink her knife into his throat. It took much effort to move it instead to her roast pheasant and slice off a delicate bite.

“I am still able to bear children,” she said once she was sure the words would come out calm, but Hugh only scoffed.

“You are barren, just like the others,” he said, but Rohesia was no longer the young girl easily swayed by her husband’s words, and even that young girl hadn’t been a fool. She knew the truth, and the truth was that Hugh—despite his many women—had no children, not even bastards.

“I am not,” she said. “It is merely that the stars are imperfect. I will give you a son when the time is right.”

Hugh still looked disbelieving, but Rohesia did not waver. She never had, no matter how many times he'd asked all these long years, or how often his glances had turned scornful when cast upon her flat belly.

Because Hugh was not a smart man, he believed her eventually, as he had every time.

“One year,” he grunted. “I will have a child in one year. The stars can align in that time.”

Rohesia smiled prettily, but inside she seethed.

“Of course, my lord,” she said, and when Hugh turned his attention back to his food, she let the smile fall.

***

In the end, it was the whore who gave her the incentive to come up with a plan. The girl couldn’t have been more than sixteen, and she was as plump with youth as Rohesia was cunning with age; of course Hugh favored her enough to keep her at the manor, and of course Rohesia saw the way his eyes lingered on her shapely bottom and ruddy face. The fact that the girl already had one fat son tottering at her side was a point in her favor for a foolish man like Hugh, and Rohesia knew without question that this was the beginning of the end. If she did not produce a child within Hugh’s year, she would find herself on precarious ground indeed; if not this whore, then another, and Rohesia did not doubt that at least one woman existed out there who would be happy to wrest her from her place and cunning enough to do so.

She needed a child, and she needed one soon. Somehow, she must produce fruit from a tree that had never so much as flowered, and she must do it in one year; Rohesia may have been smart, but she was no bringer of miracles, and this task she had was insurmountable any way she looked at it. Fortunately, although the end goal seemed impossible, the first step to securing her future was obvious. This girl who fawned and quavered and would still never produce the son Hugh desired was not real competition, not once the bloom of her youth had faded, but she was a distraction when Rohesia needed Hugh’s attention the most. Rohesia paid the guards to take the girl far away the moment Hugh’s back was turned, and when Hugh groused that evening about his missing whore, Rohesia coaxed him to her bed to plant his useless seed between her legs.

Afterward, she stole away to the stables to think. Her favorite horse, a mare who had been here for all three wives, was waiting for her; much like Rohesia, she was more than her years, and with that thought in her head, Rohesia rode her hard across the land. She encountered no one during her ride, and that was good; she suspected anyone who passed her would see the storm in her eyes, the anger even behind her cool mask. 

Hugh dared to mistreat her, his wife. He dared, but he didn’t know what she was capable of, not yet. One night, long after she had their son, he would find out.

But she didn’t know, first, how she would _get_ their son, and the question plagued her even after she’d ridden for hours. When she finally returned to the stable and dismounted, she fought the urge to unleash her frustration by taking a whip to whatever flesh was nearby; when she heard the telltale steps of a servant, she turned in a fury, an admonition for their delay already on her lips.

The words never came, because it was not the horse-master who emerged from the depths of the stable. The horse-master she knew was an older man, grizzled with age and with the sort of bowed legs befitting a life spent breaking horses; this man was young, tall, and unfamiliar, and he dipped his head in polite deference when he took the reins from her.

At seeing the crown of his dark head and the bow of his back, Rohesia couldn’t help but sneer at his posture.

“Where’s the old man?” she snapped out, her temper flaring up despite her attempts at calm. “I won’t have my prized mare handled by an amateur.”

“My father died this last winter, my lady,” said the man, “and I’ve been keeping the stables ever since.”

“Have you,” she said, and she glanced over him again. She still couldn’t recall ever seeing him before, but perhaps that was because he did as servants should and disappeared into the background when not needed.

“Yes, my lady,” he answered with another dip of his head. He straightened, and Rohesia expected to see another plain-faced servant with sun-weathered skin; she was surprised to see instead that he was almost handsome, with deep brown eyes and even, straight teeth. When combined with his thick, dark hair and broad shoulders, he looked not unlike Hugh must’ve looked in his prime, and Rohesia had a moment of uncharacteristic wistfulness—if only she had been Hugh’s first wife, rather than his third—before an idea came to her. A solution. A salvation.

She looked the horse-master over with new eyes, and when she was through, she made herself smile.

“Forgive me. I don’t believe I know your name?”

“I am Thomas, my lady.”

“Thomas.” She nodded. She’d remember the name; not because it was important, but because her plan would be easier that way. “I will trust my mare is in good hands, then.”

She didn’t wait for his answer before she headed back to the main manor, uncaring of the way her skirts skimmed the ground as she was lost in her plan.

***

Hugh left the following week, as Rohesia had known he would. She expected it because he had grown restless of late, tossing and turning in their bed while plagued with the throb of old wounds. Rohesia might have feigned sleep and ignored his groaning and his whimpering for night after night, but she made note of it all the same, as such bad nights were usually followed by Hugh leaving the manor for the nearby villages. He wouldn’t be gone for long before he tired of his drinking and his whoring, but he would be gone just long enough for Rohesia to secure her future. By sheer fortune, Hugh’s trip even overlapped with that time of the month where a woman was most fertile; Rohesia could hardly believe her luck as she watched he and his men ride past, beyond the gates and out of sight.

Hugh had been gone from the manor for less than an hour before she sent her most discreet servant to fetch Thomas from the stables, moved by an urgent message concerning the state of their horses. Perhaps it was too soon, but she couldn’t help her impatience, and she knew that waiting too long would only spoil her chance.

Thomas came to her as quickly as he could considering the distance to the stables, and he brought the smell of horse into her chambers, drowning out the scent of her carefully prepared meal. It was enough to make her wrinkle her nose in disgust before she forced her face to smooth; it wouldn’t do to show her displeasure so openly, not when she had a very important task for him.

“Good morning, Thomas.” She nodded to a seat across from her own. “I hope you don’t mind joining me for the midday meal; I have a most urgent matter to discuss.”

On the table in front of her were the finest dishes of the season, the richest wine, the most flavorful desserts. It should’ve made a fine meal, perfect for seduction, but Thomas did not sit, only bowed in apology.

“Forgive me, my lady. I don’t believe I should sit at my lord’s table.”

The refusal was exactly what a servant should’ve done, but it rankled all the same. Rohesia was rarely denied anything she pursued; she did not like that a peasant would try, just as she did not like the idea that Thomas believed this was _Hugh’s_ table.

“Are you certain?” she asked, rather than unleash the fury of her tongue. Seduction was her goal today; what Thomas thought meant very little, but she preferred him compliant at least.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Very well.” She pushed herself from her chair and stood, her hands folded primly at her waist. “It concerns my mare.”

“Your mare?”

Rohesia nodded gravely and circled the table. When she was close enough to see the individual hairs on Thomas’s head, she saw him shift as if he itched to get away, but he didn’t move in the end. Skittish, perhaps.

“Yes. I believe it is time that she had a foal.”

Her mare was thirteen years if she was a day, and Thomas visibly hesitated at the advanced age. Not completely a fool, then, when it came to horses; Rohesia comforted herself with the knowledge that her child may yet have brains in its skull.

“She is quite old, my lady.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled at him from an arm’s length away, and continued to edge closer. The smell of horse was stronger now, but for some reason it bothered her less when she was able to focus on the breadth of his shoulders and the pronounced bulge in his breeches. “But with the right stallion as sire, surely she could carry?”

“It’s possible.” Thomas looked at her with an expression she couldn’t place. “But the risks still might be too great.”

“Not if the right stallion is chosen, and chosen carefully.” Her smile turned calculatingly soft, just as her hand reached out. She touched the coarse fabric over Thomas’s stomach with the barest tips of her fingertips, and was rewarded when she felt him gasp. “I know a stallion when I see one, Thomas,” she said pointedly, but the meaning was lost on him.

“My lady?”

“Come, Thomas, and let us make a breeding pair.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before she moved her hand down over his breeches, an action that couldn’t be mistaken. Even through the thick fabric, the wide shape of his cock was pleasingly warm underneath her palm, and she groped him with undisguised enthusiasm as she looked up seductively from under her lashes. Thomas seemed frozen, and his cock moved before he did, giving the barest response to her questing fingers before Thomas stepped away and out of reach.

“No,” he said, clearly and more strongly than he’d said anything before that point. The belated “my lady” did not help, because it still left Rohesia’s hand grasping air and her mind grasping for words.

He’d refused her, _again_. That was all the rejection she could take from someone so beneath her.

“Thomas,” she said, with all the cold in her heart. “Sit down, or I will tell my husband that you tried to force yourself upon me.”

Thomas flinched from the words, and he watched her with wide eyes as he gingerly sat in the chair she’d offered him earlier. His body barely fit in the seat, but where his broadness had once impressed her, now it only angered her further.

“Hands behind the chair, or I’ll tell him how you disrespected him while you did so.”

He obeyed, and Rohesia immediately began looking around the room. She hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought she’d need to, but she found what she was looking for quickly: a length of rope that had been used for wrapping one of her recent purchases was heaped neatly in the corner, not yet disposed of. She picked it up in her hands and tested the weight; it was sturdy but not over thick, and it would bind a man well.

When she looked up with the rope in her hands, she saw him watching her, and he swallowed before casting his gaze back down.

“My lady—”

“Quiet.” She walked behind him and began to wrap the rope around his wrists, then wound it through the rungs of the chair. She bound him tightly with knots that she hadn’t formed since she was a girl toiling away on her father’s farm, and memories made her touch his hands gently as she finished. His hands were callused and wide, and she thought it was a pity that she wouldn’t get to feel them upon her after all. “If you will not cooperate, then measures must be taken.”

She circled back around the chair with one last parting touch, and this time when she cupped a hand over his cock, he was not able to flinch out of reach. The thought of having a strong man at her mercy made her unexpectedly wet, and so she took her time, slowly learning the shape of him with her hands. When her fingers began to pluck at the stays of his breeches, he tried to close his legs to block the touch, and she understood. She had been the same, once.

“Have you ever been with a woman?” she asked, and Thomas shook his head. She nodded in approval and gave his cock a strong squeeze, just until air hissed from between his teeth. “That’s good. I would hate to think of my child looking like some peasant brat you’ve already sired.”

Thomas didn’t respond to that, and she unlaced his breeches in silence. Pushing the flaps aside revealed a cock that was sizeable even while soft, and she smiled.

“I see I was not wrong to call you a stallion,” she said as she knelt to the ground, eyes already fixed on Thomas’s cock and the heavy sack behind it.

“My lady…”

She didn’t give him time to finish the plea before she pressed her lips to his impressive length, her hands wrapping around the hot inches her opening mouth couldn’t reach. Despite his protests, Thomas’s cock twitched to life as soon as she touched it, pulsing and jumping against her swirling tongue and exploring fingers. It took only a few sucks of her mouth for him to begin to swell, stretching her lips around the thick shaft, and only a few pulls more before the distinct flavor of his seed began trickling into her mouth. She pulled back with a laugh to see his cock seeping wetness and craving her touch, even while Thomas’s cheeks were alight with shame.

“Do you see?” she asked as she curled her fingers around the tip of his cock, then massaged gently until her fingertips came away sticky. “A man cannot help it, any more than an animal can.” She raised her fingers to her lips and licked them clean under his helpless gaze; his cock give a mighty leap towards his stomach at the sight, even more fluid leaking from the red tip, and she knew she was running short of time. This boy who had never touched a woman before would not last long; fortunately, she didn’t need him to.

With a determined nod of her head, she stood and slipped her gown off her shoulders, letting it pool to the ground. Thomas made a startled sound, no doubt at the sight of her with nothing underneath the heavy fabric but her naked skin, and Rohesia took it as a compliment. She stood there long enough to slide her fingers between her legs, imitating the act to come and letting the wet sounds of her fingering her cunt fill the air.

“If you had cooperated, you would’ve been inside me by now,” she taunted, expecting to see a response to the words in the restless movements of Thomas’s body. Men were so easily manipulated by the thought of their cocks going somewhere wet that she almost expected him to beg to be untied, just so he could get his hands on her body.

Instead, he tore his captured gaze away with difficulty, casting his gaze down to the floor rather than her form.

“Please stop,” he said, but the words were small. Barely audible.

She pretended she didn’t hear them, and she pulled her fingers out of her body fast enough that some lingering wetness splattered the floor. She used her wet hand to position his cock upright before she straddled his lap, letting her own weight sink him inside her inch by inch. The stretch was glorious and more than she’d ever had, and she didn’t let herself rest for even a moment before she began riding him, her thighs burning with the effort within seconds. Still, she forced his cock to spear her again and again, her grip on his broad shoulders helping her push upright when the strength in her legs alone failed her.

Thomas made no noise at all, not so much as a gasp or a groan, until the end. It was only a few short minutes before his breath hitched and she felt him spill inside her, the warm rush of seed that she’d been seeking being pushed deep into her body. The triumph was almost enough to send her into her own ecstasy, but not quite, and she clenched her cunt around his softening cock, trying to coax him back to complete hardness.

“You will remain here until I’m satisfied,” she said in annoyance when her efforts failed. “Must I fetch a whip to show you your place?”

“No, my lady,” he said, and the great cock inside her began to stir. He’d been resisting, then; Rohesia was almost impressed, but not enough to show mercy.

“Good,” she said, and then she began riding him again. This time, his hips were jerking in time with her movements, and the combined force stirred the precious seed inside her. This would be her child; she could feel it in every inch of her body, just as she could feel the pleasure building inside her as their flesh smacked together.

When Thomas came inside her a second time, she did not slow, but instead continued riding him until she was satisfied. It took long minutes and the touch of her own hand, but it was worth it for the noises of pain Thomas made at his cock being so harshly used, and eventually she tumbled into ecstasy, shivering and spasming her way down. It was more satisfaction than she’d known in many years, and she smiled as she felt his great cock finally go soft inside her. With practice, he would make an excellent stallion indeed, and she let her thoughts turn idle. She may not be fortunate enough to have a son after just one encounter, or Hugh might require many sons; the prospect was not as unpleasant as it had been last week.

Rohesia was still smiling when she dismounted, separating from him with a push of her hands against his shoulders. Thomas’s limp cock shone with their combined wetness, and she could already feel his seed sliding down her thighs; it had gone better than she could have hoped, and she untied him without any lingering touches.

Once Thomas’s hands were free, he took long minutes to tie his breeches with stiff fingers. His head was bowed the entire time, in shame or subservience, and she was satisfied.

She gripped Thomas’s chin and raised his eyes to hers before he was finished with his stays; the urge to press her lips against his came and was easily dismissed.

“Speak of this to anyone,” she said softly, “and you will meet the same fate as any ill-tempered stallion. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and as soon as she released him, he bolted from the room, his breeches still poorly fastened and his skin still smelling of sex. The smell was, she figured, at least better than horse.

It took very little time to set the room to rights, and once she was through, she re-donned her gown and sat back at her table, her cunt still twitching and dripping with pleasurable aftermath. The food was cold, now, but she began eating anyway, one arm absently curled around her belly.

Her child, after all, would need food to grow.


End file.
